The Hourglass by Bárbara Metzger

scandal-prone mistress, curled his lip, and wheeled the tea cart out again. His resignation would also be tendered before dinner. At least Genie could hire her own people now.
    When Marie came in to see what the commotion was about, Genie said, “Take this upstairs and repair it.” She tried to hand over Lady Cormack’s bonnet.
    “Why? It is ugly.”
    Lady Cormack gasped. So did Genie. Olive was too busy eating one of the bonbons to notice.
    “Just do it!”
    Lady Cormack started beating her fists and her feet on the floor. “I have never seen such a ramshackle household. I have never seen such unruly servants.” Her voice trailed away as she said, “I have never seen…”
    Genie’s thoughts finished the sentence: Such a handsome, dignified, extraordinary gentleman.
    Lord Ardeth had entered the parlor. He looked at Genie first to make certain she was unharmed, then whispered something to the maid, who jumped up and ran out. Before Genie could ask what he’d said—What if he threatened to grow warts on her nose? The story would be all over London by dinnertime—Ardeth raised Lady Cormack from the floor. Impossibly, he lifted her as if she were as light as one of the ruined feathers, and gently deposited her on the sofa. Implausibly, he’d kicked the broken china and fallen sweets under a chair at the same time. Then he bowed, with a cavalier’s flourish.
    “Welcome to my home, my lady. Coryn Ardsley, Earl of Ardeth, at your service. I apologize for any inconvenience. Perhaps some sherry?”
    Her mouth was hanging open. “Well, I never.”
    “I seldom do myself, but the occasion seems to merit something stronger than tea. Do you not agree, madam?”
    Genie was already pouring a decanter of brandy out into waiting glasses on a side table. To the devil with sherry, she thought, or tea. Ardeth took two glasses from her and handed one to Lady Cormack, again in a courtly manner that kept her speechless. He took a sip of his, gracefully sidestepped the puddle on the floor, and used his free hand to open the window. Then he sent a dangerous, dagger look at the crow.
    “No wine?”
    “No whining, no cawing, no making excuses. Go, or else.”
    For all his lack of sense, Olive knew enough to fly as fast as he could. Genie thought she heard a loud “Whew” as the crow headed for the rooftop, then his name.
    Fortified, Lady Cormack recalled her outrage and reclaimed her tongue. “What was that abomination, and why was it in a gentleman’s home?”
    Ardeth said, “It is a spawn of Hell, sent to bedevil me.”
    “Poppycock,” Lady Cormack said with a snort.
    So much for the truth. Ardeth glanced at Genie over the top of his glass and shrugged. She wanted to handle the situation herself, his look seemed to be saying. So she could handle it.
    “It is a rare bird,” Genie said. “A very rare talking bird that Lord Ardeth brought back from…from the Indies.”
    “It didn’t look like any parrot I’ve ever heard tell of.”
    “Oh, Olive is much rarer than that.”
    The baroness looked at the earl. “And he don’t look tanned.”
    Genie replied, “They traveled by way of the Orient.”
    Since Lady Cormack had no idea that the Indies and the Orient were at opposite ends of the earth, she dropped that line of questioning. “They say he’s rich as Croesus. Is it true?”
    Ardeth merely bowed again. Genie refused to answer such an impertinent query.
    “And that’s why you married him without even waiting for my boy to be cold in the ground.”
    “That was not why,” both Genie and Ardeth answered at once.
    The maid came in at that moment, pushing the tea cart. She curtsied to the earl, smiled at Genie, and offered Lady Cormack a platter of small sandwiches, pastries, and biscuits before leaving the room.
    While her mother-in-law was making her selection—several selections—Genie whispered to Ardeth, “What did you say to her?”
    “Merely that I’d mention her name to that new footman if she